Mock You Like A Hurricane

ITEM: So, the weather event known as Hurricane Irene has pretty much come and gone. Luckily, at Casa Carbonite, the damage was minimal. Many others along the East Coast weren't as fortunate. Irene had a very long reach and it seems that people either came through unscathed or were hit pretty badly. Millions of people are without power and the estimates of the devastation will undoubtedly run into the billions of dollars. While some complain about the media coverage being overblown(no pun intended), I am sure there are just as many who will spend the next few days picking up the pieces.

For my part, I spent an inordinate amount of time making light of the media's obsession with Hurricane Irene with a series of 'Updates' on Facebook. The response was pretty positive and I want to thank everyone who commented both on FB and in person. The intention, of course, was not to minimize the seriousness of the storm and it's effects. People who really know me understand that. It's an extension of my Level 4 HDM (Humor Defense Mechanism) and allows me to deal with the horrors and inequities of life.

There are worse things in the world than to be known for having a well-developed sense of humor. I worry that I become defined by it. A recent 'exercise' at work dealt with giving your co-workers a sincere compliment. Most of the comments dealt with work ethic, knowledge or dependability. The comments directed at me were generally about how funny I am. While I certainly appreciate that, it struck me as another example of how I can be stereotyped as 'the funny guy.' Is that what I want? I don't know. 

It's tempting to be 'on' all the time, to try to make people laugh constantly. You worry that if they knew the real you, they'd think you boring and unworthy of notice. Or worse...ordinary. 

To sum up: Being funny is better than being ignored. 

ITEM: Now, that I've depressed the hell out of you (and myself) I wish to remind those of you who are Facebook friends to participate in The Great Goatee Debate of 2011. I recently shaved off the dashing VanDyke I have sported since the mid-nineties (mostly to cover up the fact that I had no discernible chin to speak of).

Stare into the face of clean-shaven DOOM!

I have already traumatized my wife and child by surprising them with this new look, so now I need validation from people who have absolutely no real stake in my personal life!

If you wish to vote, please go here. I urge everyone to cast their vote because it's free and takes minimal physical effort. 

I thank you.

Once More Unto The Breach

Miss me? It's been a while. Like the sign says, "Please Pardon Our Dust. We Will Be Open During Renovations.' The floors may be a bit slippery and be sure to watch for those 'Wet Paint' signs.

What is 'My Carbonite Life?'  If you get the reference, you're in the right place. If not, simply consider it a metaphor for my constant struggle against ennui.

This blog started it's life as 'Rage Against The...' It was a way to jumpstart my brain after sinking into a rather nasty bout of depression. One that began after a terse job rejection from a certain fruit-related technology company.

When last I posted, I had begun a new journey into the murky, uncertain waters of gainful employment. At the same company that rejected my job apple-cation[sic] many months before.

'Full circle,' I thought. I'm a huge fan of symmetry.

That was six months ago. What's changed? Not much. Also, a whole lot. I'm still the same person I was. Except, I'm quite different.

So, where have I been? What have I been up to? How come 'fat chance' and 'slim chance' mean the same thing?

To answer these questions, let's hop in the DeLorean and go back to February. 2011. I was quite excited to be going back to work, especially for a company for which I have a tremendous about of respect and admiration. I was unsure of what to expect, having been out of the workforce for a couple of years. Oh, and not having been in any kind of retail environment since my first job as a teenager back in good old Wildwood, NJ. That was 1987. Yes, 1987. Ronald Reagan was President, the Chunnel began construction and The Simpsons first appeared on The Tracy Ullman Show. Some of you reading this weren't even born yet.

Jerks...!

During my first few weeks at my new job, I came to a few harsh realizations:

-I am not the smartest person in the room.
-I am not the most talented person in the room.
-I am not the best-looking person in the room. (okay, that one wasn't exactly a harsh realization)
-I am not the hardest-working person in the room.

On the plus side, however, I can be the funniest person in the room. So, I will take solace in that.

As for the actual job itself? I like going to work. That's huge. So many people hate their jobs, but can't see any way out from under them. I feel very fortunate to be in the position I find myself right here and now. 

I am surrounded by some pretty amazing (and irritatingly young/talented/attractive/smart) people and it can intimidating to say the least. It's not easy because I don't have the opportunity (or energy) to socialize outside of work, so it's difficult to establish any kind of lasting personal relationships. As with any prearranged group of people, there are those you like, those you tolerate and those you...well, you get the idea. Luckily, the latter is at a minimum.  My desperate need to be liked and accepted can get in the way of a real connection with someone and can even *GASP* be off-putting to some. That's just how it goes.  Only now, do I feel like I have carved out some tiny niche for myself. I may not be the brightest star in the sky, but I am at least visible on a clear night. If you squint.

So, the question is, do I need this forum now that I've got a live audience almost every day?

To use a phrase easily recognized by my co-workers; "I don't know. Let's find out."

...Worker Bee.

This marks my last posting as a SAHD*. As of 2/7/11, I will be again amongst the gainfully employed.

I'm not sure how I feel about that, to be perfectly honest.

I've spent the last year and a half sucking on the government teat (a.k.a. collecting unemployment insurance) while staying home to raise my young daughter. For the most part, it's been a terrific experience.  She's grown so much in the time I've been home with her. I love taking her to preschool and occasionally volunteering to be the teacher's assistant.** There, I am just another one of the Moms...only hairier and with slightly less makeup. There's dance class and swim class and trips to the library and Museum of Science. She loves it all.

Together we conquered diapers, pacifiers, fear of the dark and the big slide at the playground. And those were just my problems! *rimshot*

It's been the greatest time of my life watching her grow into this beautiful, funny and whip smart little girl. We make a great team, she and I. So, it's not without a little sadness and some serious soul-searching that I decided to get back into the workplace.

This begs the question: Why?

I don't exactly know. Money is one reason, although my financial contribution will be less than modest. Male ego? Not really. I'm pretty comfortable with not being the primary breadwinner in the household. Not bringing in any $$$, though is a bit emasculating. Factor in the desire to go someplace where I can talk to grownups during the day about things other than playdates, school fundraisers and who didn't invite whom to someone's kid's birthday party.
 
A job, though...?

A schedule, a time card, a boss and, the scariest part; dealing with OTHER PEOPLE???  I used to get panic attacks.  Bad ones, too.  Never had one while being at home with the Spawn.  Been feeling pretty anxious lately, I gotta say. Wife says that's normal when starting a new job.

I dunno. Can I get back into the life of a worker bee at my age? *checks liver spots*

Then, there's always the possibility it might be fun...

With me though, it's always been 'Hope for the best, but expect nuclear armageddon.' I intend to keep an open mind here. Just not so open that some stray seagull poops into my open cranium.

We. Shall. See.

When I found out that I got the job, I sat my daughter down and explained to her that Daddy was going back to work.  She paused for a moment and without missing a beat, she looked up at me and said, "But Daddy, who will take care of me?" That was immediately followed by the sound of my heart crashing to the ground.

I will miss my old job.  A lot.  The boss was really cool. Especially after she was potty trained.


*Stay-At-Home-Dad

**Shocking to anyone who knew me before I had a child. I am/was not a 'kid person.'

...MMXIne.

First of all, Happy New Year!  Or, as the Chinese refer to it; 'January 1st.'

A few random thoughts...

New Year's resolutions are a total crock. You are only setting yourself up for failure.  If you must have a resolution, make it easy like, "Next year I plan to drink some liquids and breathe regularly."

Not. Gonna. Happen.

Will people ever stop complaining that we still don't have flying cars and jetpacks?  I mean, really...people have enough trouble navigating in two dimensions.  Are we really ready for American drivers to be strapped to machines that can actually crash on to people's houses?  Not a sound plan. 

Want to complain about something?  Just look to BACK TO THE FUTURE, PART II.  Marty went from 1985 to 2015.  That's only four years away!  Are we any closer to HoverBoards, power-lace Nikes and self-sizing jackets?  Nope.  I really want to go to the Cafe 80's for a Pepsi Perfect.  Make it happen!

Another fine example of how movies lied to me.

My hillbilly neighbors are more than likely preparing a full-scale 'Shock and Awe' display of poor firearm safety when the clock strikes midnight.  I'm pretty sure I saw a truck of M9A1 Bazookas being unloaded on their front lawn.  Wonderful.

I have never liked New Year's Eve. More often than not, I had nowhere to go and no one to go there with.  It's almost as bad as Valentine's Day.  At least on V-Day, you're not expected to drink yourself into a vomit-choking stupor.  Just to eat enough candy to induce Type II Diabetes in a few hundred lab rats.

His day will not end well.

Living in New England, I will once again miss out on a wonderful tradition from my childhood;  The Mummers Parade.  I have many fond memories of sitting in front of the TV, watching the string bands and the fancy brigades strut down Broad Street in Philadelphia.  They have nothing similar in Boston except the annual 'Let's Light the Midget in the Leprechaun Suit on Fire and Watch Him Roll On the Ground' Parade.

No, it's not a Gay Pride parade, jerks!

It's natural to reflect on the past twelve months to try to find some greater meaning or insight.  But like any reflection, there are two sides.  There are highs and lows.  I expect much the same next year.  The best you can hope for is that you come out on the other side a little wiser if not worse for wear.  I've always been the type that hopes for the best, but expects the worst.  I don't know how well that attitude has served me over the years, but it's who I am.

I have always been able to define my life by decade.  I was a sheltered, withdrawn child in the 70's, an awkward, unsure teenager in the 80's, a young daydreamer blinded by false promises in the 90's.  I 'grew up' in the 00's, moved from the shiny and attractive, yet ultimately hollow facades of Las Vegas, got married and started a family. 

I have no earthly idea what changes, challenges and surprises this new decade will bring.  As I said before, I am not an optimist by any definition of the word.  For the sake of my daughter, however (who will be fourteen when 2021 rolls around), I will try to look ahead with my eyes wide open instead of behind a dim veil of cynicism. 

I will try...